


Don't Say My Name

by Janie Iscariot (TheOtherSarahJane)



Category: Skip Beat!
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Dream Sex, F/M, Guilt, Sexual Repression, Vaginal Fingering, Wet Dream, also the 'underage' warning is here because kyoko is 17 at this point, cain and setsuka are sort of here too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-09 07:48:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11100132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOtherSarahJane/pseuds/Janie%20Iscariot
Summary: When Kyoko has a not-so-wholesome dream about a certain fellow actor, she's forced to confront some feelings she's never had to deal with before--feelings that she may not be ready to acknowledge.





	Don't Say My Name

_Mr. Tsuruga._  
  
_His body loomed over her, his hands pressing her shoulders into the bed. She was dressed as Setsu, and he as Cain, but something felt off. His eyes were poring over her face, her body, in a way she’d never experienced before. She didn’t know if the man before her was Cain Heel, or Ren Tsuruga. And part of her was afraid it was the latter._  
  
_One thing she couldn’t mistake, though, was the feeling of his hand on her stomach, sliding upward to hook his fingers into the dip in her neckline, nestled between her breasts. A shiver ran through her, along with a wave of excitement and dread. His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear what he was saying._  
  
_It occurred to her that she had been here before, not long ago, in this same situation. Something had been off then, too, but this was different._  
  
_Just stay in character. Just stay as Setsuka and everything would be fine. This was all an act._  
  
_Right?_  
  
_His fingers pulled downward, dragging her already perilously low neckline even farther down on her chest. A rush coursed up into her head, maybe fear, maybe anticipation._  
 _“May I carve it on you?”_  
  
_This time she understood him._  
  
_“The proof of my vow.”_  
  
_His fingers left her neckline—was that relief or disappointment she felt?—and trailed up instead to the skin of her breast, tracing little teasing circles. Before she could stop herself, she arched her back up imploringly. That was what Setsuka would do, right? That’s why she did it._  
  
_That’s why she felt this way. Like she wanted him to continue. Like she didn’t want him to stop, even if part of her screamed that this was wrong, she shouldn’t be doing this with Mr. Tsuruga, she shouldn’t be doing this with anyone._  
  
_“May I?” he asked again._  
  
_“Cain?” she breathed, wanting him to reassure her that he was still Cain, that this was all just in-character._  
  
_He said nothing, only moving to touch his lips, feather light, to the skin on her neck. Goosebumps broke out where she felt his breath on her, and she leaned into his touch._  
  
_“May I?” he asked once more, and this time Kyoko—Setsuka—gave in. She nodded._  
  
_His lips touched her skin, wet and inviting. A little flash of pain—she let out a soft cry in spite of herself—and when he raised his head to look at her with those piercing eyes, still not fully Cain but not Ren either, a little pink spot adorned her breast, just below the collarbone._  
  
_“Is that all?”_  
  
_She felt herself flush at the sound of her voice saying those words, berating herself inwardly. This was a dangerous situation. She was afraid they’d gone too far already, that if she’d let him get to this point, they might never stop._  
  
_But this was what Setsuka would do. Setsuka would want this to continue. That was why she wanted this so much. It wasn’t her own feelings—it was Setsuka._  
  
_And the only reason he was continuing this was because of Cain. Those were Cain’s eyes shining with desire and anticipation, not Mr. Tsuruga’s. There was no way someone like Mr. Tsuruga could possibly look at someone like her this way. They were actors, playing their roles to the fullest—there was nothing else here._  
  
_And as long as that was true, anything they did was okay._  
  
_Mr. Tsuruga—Cain—wasted no time in answering her question. He smiled—that smile that looked so much like the one she’d seen Mr. Tsuruga wear so many times before, like an incubus—and his fingers returned to her neckline, this time pulling hard enough to expose her breasts fully. His head dipped back down, and she felt him laving his tongue across her skin, circling around her exposed nipples, sending a shiver through her spine and heat into her head, fogging up her mind until she could scarcely keep her thoughts straight. She arched her back up into him again, and his arm slipped around her waist, keeping their torsos close together. She circled her arms around him in return, clutching handfuls of his shirt over his back._  
  
_Her breathing grew heavy, and again she questioned if this was really okay, if she could really allow herself to do this._  
  
_Before her doubts could have time to gather, though, she felt Mr. Tsurug—Cain’s hands laying her back down onto the bed, then trailing down her hips, her thighs, pausing to squeeze the bare skin between her miniskirt and thigh-high boots, as if he was relishing the way she felt in his grip. She didn’t know what to do other than clasp him to her desperately, not sure what he would do next but begging him to continue anyway._  
  
_One of his hands released her thigh and moved inward, his fingers only barely touching her skin, and, her thoughts not clear enough to stop herself, she inched her legs apart just slightly, inviting him farther in._  
  
_His hand trailed up beneath her skirt, nestling between her legs, and her breath caught in her throat. He pressed one finger, then two, against her panties, rubbing gently outside the fabric. She let out a sharp moan, then clapped a hand over her mouth, surprised at the sound. All semblance of shame was soon forgotten, however, as Mr. Tsuruga continued to stroke her—was he still staring at her with those eyes, with that dangerous look on his face? She didn’t know—and it became more and more difficult not to cry out at his touch. She wanted more, wanted him to keep going, but couldn’t bring herself to ask._  
  
_His fingers left momentarily to push aside her panties, leaving her center exposed. She let out a whimper, completely at his mercy. His long finger hesitated for one second, then two; he let the tip linger outside her, just barely touching the wet folds of skin eagerly waiting for him._  
  
_“Say my name,” he told her, and she forced her eyes open to stare at him hazily. She barely registered through her arousal that all traces of Cain were gone—the dark clothes, the long black hair, weren’t there any longer. Instead, all she saw was Ren’s soft brown hair, his brown eyes, his intense gaze._  
  
_“C-Cain?” She whispered, their little act crumbling around them. Ren’s finger twitched, but didn’t move._  
  
_“Say my name,” he repeated, leaning in closer to her until their lips were almost touching. He towered over her, eclipsing her smaller form beneath him, and Kyoko felt as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff that was rapidly disintegrating beneath her._  
  
_Right now, though, she didn’t care. She wanted this too much to stop now. She clasped onto him for dear life and parted her lips to let the word through._  
  
_“Ren,” she breathed, and he smiled, that secret, seductive smile that was all at once intimidating and spellbinding. She shut her eyes, unsure if she wanted to acknowledge what she had just done, but everything melted away into a heated rush as he slid his finger inside her, pushing deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed. His lips descended down onto hers in a hungry kiss, one she eagerly reciprocated._  
  
_“Ren,” She murmured again when their lips parted, what remained of the cliff falling to dust beneath her, and her vision blurred and ran together until she could see only the blank ceiling above her, all traces of Ren’s hands, his body, his lips fading into_ nothing but the sheets and pillows crumpled around her.  
  
She lay still for a few moments, her entire body tense. Gradually, reality set in, and the knowledge of what she had just dreamed—what she had just done in the dream—settled onto her body and weighed her down, making her heavy, paralyzed.  
  
How could she have thought such things? To think of Mr. Tsuruga, her senior, doing _that_ to her, to imagine it so vividly, to use his first name, as if she was close enough to him to do so—! She felt as if her own mind had betrayed her. Her stupid, impudent, irrational, weak subconscious. He would never—she should never—  
  
And yet, as much as she wanted to push everything away, she wanted just as much to fall back asleep and continue. She cursed herself for not waking up earlier, and for waking up too early. It was bad, it was wrong, every brain cell was screaming out that she was weak, she was insane—but still her body protested, ached for his hands greedily touching her, taking her. Surely this must be some kind of punishment.  
  
Kyoko turned over onto her side, curling into herself amongst the blankets that had managed to twist around her—seems she had moved about a bit in her sleep. She realized she was still clutching her chest where Mr. Tsuruga had left his mark in the dream, and willed her hand to let go, trying to calm herself down.  
  
It was just a dream, she reassured herself. Dreams didn’t have to mean anything. They were just junk, cobbled together from one’s daily life and put together in a random order. The fact that she used his first name was of no importance. It didn’t really matter that it had been Mr. Tsuruga and not someone else. It didn’t matter that, even in the deepest, darkest days of being hopelessly in love with Shotaro, she’d never had a dream like this one.  
  
The last thought made her stop mid-breath, and her hand came up to clasp her mouth, mortified.  
  
She had never even had a dream like that about Shotaro.  
  
She’d had her fantasies, sure, daydreams about marrying him, cuddling and doing couplesy things with him, even their first kiss when she felt particularly bold. But she had never let her mind go much further than that, and it had certainly never shown up in her dreams.  
  
_“Say my name.”_  
  
Kyoko clenched her eyes shut at the thought. This wasn’t like that, she told herself. It was just a dream, brought about by…by playing Setsuka. Surely that must be it. Playing a character who paraded around in such daring clothes, with such a fixation on Cain (who was played by Mr. Tsuruga, that must be why it had been him in the dream)—that made sense, right? She had nothing to worry about.  
  
This didn’t mean anything. She would go to sleep like always, she would forget about it by morning, and it would never so much as cross her mind again. And once she’d gotten it out of her mind, she could look Mr. Tsuruga in the eye knowing she’d overcome whatever bizarre devil had forced its way into her mind tonight.  
  
Kyoko grabbed her pillow and buried her head deep inside the soft down, willing her mind to shut down and ignoring the ache gradually fading in her body.  
  
This didn’t mean anything.

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had this planned out as a couple different scenes, but when I wrote it out it went a little differently than I planned and I think it stands pretty strongly on its own. I do hope to continue this at a later time and add a few more parts, but on the off chance I don't get around to it I think this is good how it is.
> 
> Ahh, Kyoko. You're so repressed.


End file.
